


The Flower of Hatu

by FanWriter



Category: Sherlock - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-19
Updated: 2016-05-19
Packaged: 2018-06-09 12:22:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6907099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FanWriter/pseuds/FanWriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Story based off of Part 2 of 'A Study in Scarlet' by Sir A.C.D.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Flower of Hatu

**Author's Note:**

> I was reading my way through the 'Annotated Sherlock Holmes' and when I came across 'A Study in Scarlet' I wanted to give it a happy ending - so I did that and modernized it to the world of BBC Sherlock. Enjoy.

The Flower Of Hatu

''Oh, Grandfather, please!'' a young woman cried. She struggled to keep up with him as he dragged her by her arm, his own pounding footsteps reverbrating in her head.

''Enough with you!'' he yelled, tossing her into her bedroom. He raised a finger and pointed at her. ''You will marry Sir Drebber. You do not get a choice in this matter. Everything has been arranged. Tomorrow after-noon, you will be Lady Drebber,'' he continued with his hand on the door knob, ''and when you come down to breakfast, I'd better be looking up from my morning paper to see a blushing bride.'' He slammed the door behind him, and a loud click emitted as the lock engaged.

Lucy sat down on her bed and cried. She cried for her father, who she'd been kidnapped from by her Grandfather. She cried most of all for Jefferson Hope, the man she loved and had given her heart to, the man who was her true fience. Buring her face in her pillow, she shuddered and shook until there were no more tears left. Suddenly, she stiffened, as a scraping sound seemed to be coming closer. It was coming from outside her window. She lay still, in fear, as the sound stopped and was replaced by a shadow, a human siloutte blocking the moonlight and ominously casting his darkened figure upon the window's fogged glass. Lucy sat up quickly, but was unable to do anything else. She stared transfixed at the shadow, as it raised it's hand, index finger extended upwards, and pressed against it's lips, signaling her to be quiet. The hand lowered and manipulated the latch on the window. The window pushed open and a tall, lean man stealthly stepped into her room.

''Hello. My name is Sherlock Holmes, and I've been sent on the behalf of a Jefferson Hope and John Ferrier. No time to pack, I'm afraid. We must leave at once. Quickly.'' He'd said all this in a rushed whisper, helping Lucy through the window and into the dark night.

SH-SH-SH-SH-SH

John knocked on the heavy wooden door leading in to Mycroft Holmes' office. Pushing it open when he heard Mycroft voice, he stepped in and to the side, saying to the other two occupants in the room, ''Look who we have here.''

The three men in the room stood, Mycroft out of courtsy, the other two in delight. ''Lucy!'' Both men rushed to the young woman who'd come in with Sherlock and hugged her tightly.

Sherlock rolled his eyes at the scene and stepped around them. ''Evening, brother.''

''Sherlock,'' said Mycroft cordially. ''I trust all was well.''

''Obviously.''

The elder of the two men broke away from Lucy and shooked John's hand heartily. ''Thank you John. You've no idea have happy I am at this moment.''

''Anything for a friend, John Ferrier, and it wasn't just me.''

''Of course. Thank you Mr. Holmes, and you as well Mr. Holmes. I don't know how I can ever repay you.''

''I can think of a way,'' said Mycroft smoothly.

That got Lucy's attention. ''Papa, what's going on?''

John Ferrier set a notebook on the big desk, and turned back to his daughter. ''When you Grandfather kidnapped you, I went to my old army buddy, John. He always knew what to do and I was hoping for his help in getting you back. He suggested his friend, Sherlock, and once he heard the name Brigham Young, he brought Jefferson and I here.''

At this, Mycroft picked up the conversation. ''You're Grandfather has been on our most wanted list for quite a while. It is mostly likely, his reasoning for your hasty marriage to Sir Drebber was to secure a long-term position for arm trades. I'm sure you've noticed a Joseph Stagerson hanging about; he's in charge of the underground organization. In exchange for new identities, and new lives, you father has agreed to give me everything he knows of the man.'' He reached out and opened the notebook.

''What if Young comes after us?'' Jefferson spoke, with his arms wrapped around his fience. ''He's a clever man, and he's got a far reach. I wouldn't put it past him to have targets on all of our backs.''

Mycroft quirked an eyebrow. ''Young may be clever to you, but I can assure you that it is a rarity that I come across anyone as clever as I,'' he said, sending a small smirk to his brother. Sherlock, in turn, narrowed his eyes and huffed. Mycroft turned back to the small family in the room. ''There is a private plane awaiting to relocate you. I suggest not keeping them waiting.'' After a round of thank yous and goodbyes, John Ferrier left the room with his daughter and son-in-law. When the door shut behind them, Mycroft picked up the notebook and held it out to Sherlock. ''Have fun, little brother.''

Sherlock snarled his nose. ''I don't need your cases. I have plenty of sevens and above of my own. Good night,'' he said, and left the room with a swirl of his coat.

Mycroft rolled his eyes, and moved his arm to John. ''Take it with you. Just in case. You know how easily he get bored. We wouldn't want him shooting the walls again, do we?''

''How did you know -'' John started, then realizing who he was taking to, settled for just shaking his head. ''Never mind. Don't you need to document this or something?'' he asked, taking the notebook.

''I already memorized it.''

''Right. Of course. I should, go after him. Get him to eat something.''

''Ensure that he eats a fulfilling breakfast tomorrow. I know how little he tends to eat when working and this case will take him about three weeks.'' Staring at the tea cup on his desk, he could still see John stop at the door from the corner of his eye. ''Like I said: have fun. Goodnight John Watson.''


End file.
